Beautiful Fighter
by SasukeBlade
Summary: She was absolutely magnificent when she was wiping the floor with his face. BobbyLoor


Disclaimer: I do not own the Pendragon series.

Note: This is more fluff than you can shake a stick at. Though Loor tries. Yes she does.

* * *

Thwack! The sharp sound corresponded to the pain that shot through his leg. He hit the ground, a softer sound, accompanied by the air that fled his lungs. 

He hastily raised his own weapon, wincing at screaming muscles and the way each gasp for air stung the back of his throat. To his surprise, no follow-up came.

Bobby Pendragon huffed a sigh and climbed to his feet, not bothering to brush the dirt from his back. She'd only knock him back down in a minute anyway. He instead spent his free, not assaulted moment glaring at his (admittedly lovely) opponent.

Eight bouts under the blazing sun and she wasn't even sweating. Every muscle in that perfect body was relaxed, taunting him. Sometimes he hated her.

"You let your guard down."

"Trust me, I know."

Loor rolled her eyes. "Your skull is so thick. Only pain teaches you."

He raised the simple, wooden baton into the ready position. Until he learned these new blocks and incorporated them into the rest of his skills, there would be no bladed weapons. "Best out of nine?"

Her grin matched the taunt of her relaxed stance. "You're looking tired. Sure you don't need me to carry you home?"

He replied with a mock scowl. "_I'll_ be carrying _you _home."

Their ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth bouts went much the same as the first eight. Loor dumped him in the dirt with enough ease that, had it been anyone other than her, would have wounded his pride. By now he'd gotten used to her wiping the floor with him.

"Would you like a thirteenth?" she asked, cool as ever.

It was time to take drastic measures. "Sure. Help me up?"

And it was child's play to just build on the forward momentum of her pulling him upwards. A foot shoved behind her legs, enough push, and they were both on the ground.

"Pendragon," she scowled, and he kissed her hard in reply.

When they broke for air, he laughed at the somewhat disgruntled expression on her face. A scowl warred with the faint upturn of the corners of her mouth. Hoping for a complete smile, he kissed her again.

This time she was smiling when they parted. "What," she asked, punctuating each word with the faintest touch of her lips against his, "do you think you're doing?"

He smirked. "Evening the playing field."

She blushed, a difficult thing to identify on someone so stoic, but definitely there, the red flush tinting her sun browned cheeks. Taking several deep breaths did nothing to slow her breathing, ignoring the way he laughed at her attempts. She quickly switched tactics. "Evening the playing field?"

"That's right." She'd wipe that self-satisfied expression from his face with joy.

"Let me help you with that." She smiled with false sweetness, and with a quick twist and enough leverage, his back hit the dirt.

"Unfair," he coughed, but she stopped the rest of his words with a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

Several long moments later, she rolled off the now panting Traveler and flipped to her feet. "Enough distractions," she huffed, trying to hide her own shallow breathing. "You need more work."

"So did I win that round?" He lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight. Graciously, she moved to block the light with her body, staring down at his still prone form.

"No."

"Best out of fourteen to win your heart?"

"Unlikely."

Bobby Pendragon sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "One day I'll win."

Though she knew he meant more than just their regular practice bouts, she pretended to take the promise as a challenge. "Even more unlikely."

He gave a rueful smile, and the last thing he saw before he hit the ground (again) was her wide smirk.

Yes, he mused as he stared into the sun for the fourteenth time, she was absolutely magnificent when she was kicking his ass. And one day he would win this beautiful fighter's heart.

Loor laughed at him then, kneeling beside him and touching his face with her rough hands before leaning down to kiss him. Such a paradox, those rough, gentle hands. As he raised himself up to meet her mouth, he considered a new thought.

Perhaps her heart was already his. That would be just like her, fighting something like love.

One day, he decided, one day soon, she would lose that battle. And in doing so, they'd both win.

* * *

The end. 


End file.
